A Beautiful Disaster
by Raenad
Summary: A fairy tale. This is my first story, so no flaming, please.
1. A triumph, a punishment, and a curse

Okay. I'm hesitant to post this first chapter, because I know that I can do better, I'm just not sure how yet. :) Hopefully, my writing will improve as the story evolves (don't you hate that word?) and it won't be so choppy and annoying to read in the future. :) Thank you thank you and hugs to my wonderful beta, InChrist-Billios, who took time to help me with this. I really appreciate it! :)

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The kingdom of Eldon was not very superstitious - not anymore. There had once been tales of a curse that was put on the fair kingdom, but after generations and generations, most people stopped telling those tales and then they were forgotten.

They were just stories, after all - and the odd weather they had? Just a coincidence. After years of the same thing occurring, it no longer seem odd or out of place.

For nine months out of every year, the kingdom would be saturated in sunshine: so much sunshine, that everyone's skin grew very dark from working out in the hot sun. (Well, almost everyone's.)

The crops, as you can imagine, never fared well, but crops were always that way in Eldon. They bought much of their food from neighboring kingdoms, instead.

Their year was divided into just two seasons: "The Sunny Season" and "The Raining Season." Farmers spent the Sunny Season worrying about their crops and the Raining Season - also worrying about their crops. They were decidedly happier during the second part, though, and despite the drought and the constant rain, the people were content.

Time was running out for the people of Eldon, though, they did not know it yet.

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Celia was running late - _again_. Never mind the fact that it wasn't her fault this time.

Sven, the town baker, would never let her come in, pay for the baked goods, and just leave. First she had to listen to the latest town gossip before he would even load up her basket and take her coins. She had never known a man who could talk for so long a time about nothing at all. He was a bigger gossip than any woman she had ever met. If Sven knew about a piece of gossip by dawn, then surely the whole kingdom would be subjected to every sordid detail before the noon meal.

Today's poor targeted soul was the Princess Tanja, the latest of the royal Princes' long list of cast offs. That made five just this week! Poor girl. Celia didn't know her, but she felt bad for her nonetheless.

Every lovely Lady and princess was vying for the handsome Prince's heart, but he was never satisfied with anyone.

She wondered what the problem was this time. She supposed she'd hear it soon enough, once she arrived at the palace. Was she too short? Too tall? Did she have a mole on the side of her nose that reminded him of a witch he was frightened of when he was a child? She giggled to herself. She would most assuredly have to ask him that particular question.

You see, the Crown Prince of Eldon was her very best friend and had been since they were children. It was an arrangement that the Queen grudgingly allowed, in respect for Celia's father, who had once saved the kings' life in battle.

Both of their fathers were gone now, but the Queen still remained civil to her. Certain boundaries however, were never crossed. He was still the Crown Prince, and she was still a servant. He lived in the palace with all it's grandeur, and she lived in the same small run down cottage that she had lived in her entire life.

None of that mattered to them, though. They were as close as any brother and sister would be. The Prince was her only real friend - and now that her parents were gone, he was the only person she had in the world.

He looked out for her, and likewise, she looked out for him. She always warned him when a new "candidate" was coming up the drive and she would tell him how each one had privately treated the servants during their stay.

Yes, he was her protector, and she was his spy. She giggled again. She had to remind him today that they would have to come up with some carrier pigeons soon. The running up and down the palace steps between chores to tell him her latest information was getting to be too much!

A light mist began to fall from the clouds that had been looming overhead as she ran. _Wonderful, _she thought, glumly. _The Raining Season is upon us_. Celia wondered if she was the only person in the whole kingdom who hated the rain. The smiling faces of the peasants and farmers, who had gathered in the town square, whooshed past her as she ran.

She picked up her skirts and her pace, while she struggled with the hood of her cloak and juggled her heavy basket. Celia had never been good at doing several things at once.

Drops fell onto her hood as she ran, which did nothing to protect her hair from getting wet. All of her clothes were worn and threadbare. Usually it made no difference, until the Raining Season.

Phillip had tried to have new clothes made for her in the past, but his mother intervened quickly. It was another rule that was added to the long list of rules concerning Celia. The list seemed to be growing daily. Usually, she didn't mind. She always felt guilty receiving things from him, anyway. It was at times such as this, though, that she wished she could accept them.

Celia looked up at the rapidly darkening sky and frowned. This was exactly how the sky looked when her mother and father had died. When the wind storm came.

She was only twelve years old when it happened, but she remembered every minute detail of that day. The now familiar lump began to form in her throat and she forced it down and concentrated, instead, only on running.

She was now very late. Faye, the head cook, was going to have her flogged. This must be the third time this week! She really did have to get those carrier pigeons. She wondered how much bread a pigeon could carry, and if it would be made to listen to Sven's gossip too.

A large flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, sounded overhead. Then the rain began to pour.

"Oh NO! The bread!" Celia yelled out as she picked up her already frantic pace. Everyone around her was doing much the same.

By the time she made it to the kitchen door, she was dripping with water, her long, thick auburn waves were plastered to her back, her shoes were squeaking, and the bread was soggy. She felt Faye's presence before she actually saw her and cringed inwardly. She had never dealt well with being yelled at. Even now, before Faye had even started, she could feel the prickling behind her eyes. Faye, had unfortunately discovered Celia's weakness early on and used that knowledge to her advantage. Celia cried often.

"YER LATE! Her Majesty has been requesting her bread and butter fer the past half hour!"

Why-oh-why had Phillip chosen today to dismiss Tanja? Surely, he could have waited for tomorrow, when Faye was having her day off! Then she wouldn't have had to listen to Sven for half an hour!

"Yes, Miss Faye. I am very sorry. I was held up by Sven, He refu.."

"SILENCE yer mouth! I'm tired of you and yer excuses! Ev'ry mornin' it's somethin' new with you! Yer very lucky I'm in a good mood on account o' the rain! What I should be doin' is kickin' your scrawny drippin' person out in it!

Celia cringed. She had to get away from Faye as quickly as possible. Already she was getting choked up - and Faye was just getting started. She had moved past yelling and had now moved on to screaming in Celia's face.

"You should be thankin' me that you still have this job! If it weren't for me sticking up fer ya' with her Majesty, you would be out on the street right now!"

Celia knew she had done no such thing. Sticking up for her, indeed! She knew the things that Faye really said about her to the Queen, but she held her tongue, sucked in a deep breath, screwed up every ounce of courage, and replied,

"Yes, Miss Faye. I thank you sincerely, Miss Faye."

- and curtsied. _There_!_ she thought. Phillip will be very proud of me when I tell him how well I handled Miss Faye today! _Several servant girls, who had gaped with open mouths when Celia began her smart reply, began to giggle. Faye shot them a murderous glare and they quickly turned back to their sink full of suds and were quiet.

"You think you're a lady now, don't ya' - usin' all them fancy words and curtsies. Let's see how much of a lady you feel after you've finished washin' the grease pots. When you're done wi' those, you can take all those piles of dirty aprons and scrub 'em. Now be gone with you! I don't want to see yer face anymore!"

_Blast! _Her plan had backfired. But it was almost worth it, knowing that for a few shining moments in her otherwise bleak morning, she had gotten the upper hand - almost.

"If that was the shining moment, then the darkness is very close at hand,"she murmured to herself as she made her way to the back of the stables, where Faye usually ordered them taken to be cleaned.

The "grease pots," as they were called by Miss Faye, were the pots that were used for frying large meat. Faye believed that the longer the grease sat in the pots, the better the meat that was cooked in them tasted; therefore, they were only washed every few months. (Celia had made sure to tell Phillip to never, under any circumstances eat anything from the kitchen that had been fried). It took hours to get just one clean. Faye always gave this job out as a punishment to whomever was getting on her nerves most. Celia was doing this job a lot lately.

She marched to the stables, like a soldier going to war, a huge pot in each hand, dreading the task ahead, and knowing what must be done. (Really, they were _that_ bad.) As she passed, she heard someone laughing. She looked up to see Evan, a newcomer to Eldon, laughing at her sorry predicament as if it was the funniest thing he'd seen.

"Did you make Faye mad already today, Celey?"

Celey! Why did he insist on calling her that? It was beyond annoying. She gave him a half smile, turned her face, which was now bright red, away from him, and kept walking. She could still hear him laughing when she made it to the back of the stables.

Evan was a seventeen year old boy, and as such, just as annoying. She should have stuck her tongue out at him, but she didn't think she could handle being brave twice in one day. She wondered why on earth all the other young girls were so crazy about him. He seemed just like every other bothersome boy she had ever known. Well, Phillip was alright. Still annoying,

"But at least _he_ would have offered to help me carry these heavy disgusting, greasy pots," she grumbled.

She remembered Sarah, a young maid swooning over his good looks and charms just this morning and she thought out loud,

"He's not _that_ wonderful."

She heard him laugh a few yards away from her. Her head shot up to see him leaning against the back stable wall_. Oh good grief! Did he just hear that? _She could feel her face getting red. And he laughed even harder. She changed her mind and stuck her tongue out at him anyway. It didn't make him stop laughing, just the opposite, he was laughing so hard, that he was doubled over, but at least she felt a little better. Men were so stupid. Honestly, it wasn't _that_ funny!

"Oh, go away Evan!"

With an exaggerated sigh, she decided that she was just going to ignore him for the rest of the day. Her face returned to it's orginal shade of pale white while she worked. She had finished cleaning 2 pots and was doing a very successful job of ignoring everthing around her - which was why she didn't notice him at first when he returned to the back of the barn a while later. When she did look up from her scrubbing, he was running in her direction at full force.

"Get down! Celey, get DOWN!!"

At the very moment that she heard her name, the wind picked up and began to blow her hair in all directions. Her entire body froze, scrub brush in hand. She started to hyperventilate. Every fear that she had kept locked away from that day years ago came crashing down around her. She couldn't will her body to move. She saw the tree fly by in the corner of her eye just as something heavy knocked her to the ground.

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That's all for now! I could edit this chapter for hours and still not be satisfied, I think, so after receiving some wise council from my wonderful beta, I've decided to leave it be for a while. As I was writing the bit about the carrier pigeons and how much bread they could carry, I found myself quoting Monty Python jokes in my head. :)


	2. Deja Vu

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and for adding me to your alert lists and favorites! You really made my day! HUGS to you all! I'm so excited about this chapter! If you enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know! If you didn't enjoy it, that's ok too! I encourage helpful critiques. This is all a learning process for me and I'm having so much fun doing it! Thanks again, to the lovely InChrist-Billios for reviewing my chapter and correcting all my silly mistakes. You rock!

Oh - and because I don't want to feel left out, I thought I'd add a disclaimer. I own it all! Ha!

On to chapter 2...

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There are times in life when we think we know exactly what an outcome of a situation will be.

We know when the skies turn grey, that we'll soon have rain.

When a loved one dies, we know there will be tears.

Celia knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this storm that had missed her before, that had taken both her parents, was going to finally take her too.

The wind howling around her, blowing her hair in all directions, took her back to that exact point and time when she had lost everything that was dear to her. Her father, trying to keep her safe, had thrown himself over her, protecting her head with his big rough hands.

The wind had picked both him and her mother up and carried them away. She never saw exactly how it happened, only remembered suddenly feeling the rain that her father had been shielding her from. She cowered in that corner for the rest of the day, sobbing.

Phillip had found her later that night and taken her to the castle until her home could be rebuilt. It was the only time his mother had allowed them to sleep under the same roof. She had spent the next two months sleeping in the already cramped servant's quarters, curled on her small cot, praying that what had happened was all just a nightmare - praying to wake up and hear her father's voice and feel her mother's arms around her.

She still felt the emptiness in her chest that their absence had left. It became worse when the skies darkened and the rain came. That was just one more reason why she hated the Raining Season.

This was the exact same scenario as before only this time it was Evan, who was trying to protect her from the storm. She could feel his breath in her ear and she knew that he was just as frightened as she was.

Surprisingly, his hands were not the rough, weathered hands of someone who had worked his whole life. They felt soft and warm on her forehead. He was trying to protect her from the debris that was now flying all around them.

_Please don't let anyone else die trying to save me _she prayed as Evan put his arms around her and held her closer. She struggled to breathe underneath Evan's weight. The scrub brush that she had just been using moments before, was now pressing into her back. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and filling up her ears. As the tunnel of wind came closer, horses that were in the stables on the other side of the wall began stamping and whinnying loudly. Screams could be heard in the distance.

The storm slowly came upon them and Celia could hear the cracking of wood being separated from wood as the roof was being torn from the barn.

Despite her desire for Evan to remain safe, even knowing that the storm would take her, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter.

She wanted to be brave and stand out alone in the wind and rain, fling her arms open wide and let it take her, but she couldn't. She would never be able to step out and do what she knew was right, even if she knew that it meant Evan would be taken with her.

She was a coward. She hated herself for it, but she held onto him even tighter, praying that he would be safe, praying that she would be safe, knowing that neither one would be.

It seemed to last forever, the constant battering of wind and rain. The wind tunnel was now somewhere off to the night. She knew this because once the roof had been ripped from the barn, she heard another being destroyed next to it.

Evan held her even tighter, and she knew what she had to do. This wasn't right. She was still terrified, more afraid than she had been in her entire life, even more than she had been five years ago. But she was also reminded of the torment that she went through each and every night, knowing that it was her fault that her parents died.

She was not going to let that happen to Evan as well. She couldn't bear any more blood on her hands.

Using every ounce of strength in her small body, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed. He responded by holding her tighter. She tried again, but could not budge him.

"Evan, PLEASE!"

She tried to make him hear her above the roar of the wind. As soon as she spoke the first syllable of the first word, the wind tunnel that was slowly beginning to recede, snapped back to where they huddled, partially hidden behind the fallen roof. Her name was half whispered, half roared across the wind that whipped against her face.

"CELIA ALANDRA IVY"

She and Evan both jumped at the same time and then jumped again just as something large landed beside their heads. Celia stopped breathing and stopped trying to push Evan away and instead tried to hold him closer. Every ounce of courage she had fought up before was completely gone. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms and the back of her neck.

The voice in the wind now screamed her name.

"CELIA ALANDRA IVY"

She yelped and hid her face in Evan's neck. Her body felt cold.

It knew her name.

She was going to die, and Evan was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

She braced herself. The wind picked up, impossibly stronger than before. It was right on top of them. Her hair was flying around them in all directions. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent one final prayer upward, while the angry wind howled her name a third time.

Evan's voice suddenly broke through the haze of panic and fear that surrounded her. She heard it above the roar, even though he only spoke in a whisper.

Desperate for any type of distraction, she focused on his voice.

It was surprisingly clear and steady in contrast to his shaking hands. He spoke in a language that she didn't understand.

She was almost positive she had never even heard it before, yet the words he spoke seemed to call to her. She wished she had paid more attention to Phillip when he had tried to teach her other languages. She longed to know what Evan was saying.

Her distraction was short lived as the wind roared and howled and whipped at them one last time, blowing dust and debris at their heads.

Then it was gone.

Her ears were ringing, but she could distinctly hear Evan's sigh of relief. His uneven breathing matched her own. Everything else was eerily silent.

Evan leaned up on his elbows and looked down at her. He wiped a streak of dirt from her cheek with his thumb, and again she wondered briefly about his smooth hands, but other things took the forefront in her frantic thoughts.

"Celie, are you alright?"

_It knows my name. It knows my birth name, not just what everyone else calls me. Why didn't it take me? Why am I still here? How long before it comes back to take me again? Am I alright? Will I ever be "alright"?_

"Celie?" he was frowning down at her and she knew he was expecting her to say something now.

"Yes. I'm fine. Thank you," she said, in between gasping breaths.

It wasn't the truth, but she couldn't tell him the truth.

He didn't need to know that she had selfishly risked his life to save her own.

He wouldn't understand the guilt that was was feeling, knowing that it was her fault. All the destruction from before and from today; every loss of life, it was all her fault.

She decided that no, she would never be "alright" again.

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What did you think? I promise it won't be all gloom and angst, although, I do love angst. :D

And yes, I changed the spelling of her nickname from "Celey" to "Celie" No more celery here! :)

Disclaimer: No horses were harmed during the making of this chapter.


	3. It was only a dream

Fear can be a very crippling thing.

Celia spent the next two days filled with fear - and guilt. She went about her day as she always had, running errands and following orders. But her heart and mind were not in it. She was an empty shell wandering through the muddy streets. She barely noticed the looks of pity that followed her wherever she went.

She knew it was only a matter of time before everyone in the kingdom knew why the wind had come. She half expected them to storm her cottage, torches in hand, to throw her out. She wished they would. She hoped they wouldn't. She couldn't understand why, by the third day, they had not come.

She spent her nights cowering on her mattress, jumping at any change in the wind. During the day, she could block it all out and go about her life as she always had. At night, she had nothing else to focus on. Nothing to distract her. Her days and nights were filled with darkness.

She wasn't the only one who had been affected by the storm. Everyone in the small kingdom of Eldon seemed to be on edge. From the oldest to the youngest.

Every eye was focused on the sky to see what it would do next. Every heart skipped a beat each time the wind picked up slightly. They had seen storms before. They had lost citizens to them before. But something about this particular storm put fear into their hearts.

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Celia awoke to a start to the sound of rain thumping against the thatched roof. Her heart was hammering as she sat up and looked out of her little window. Was it here again? The trees outside were bowing slightly in the breeze, but there was nothing else. She forced herself to get up. There was only one small window in her cottage that faced east. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she looked at all the other sides, as well. She wrapped her blanket around her and fearfully walked to the door. The wooden slats were cold against her bare feet.

She walked to the latch and unlocked it with trembling fingers. The image of the door suddenly flying open and the wind sucking her out popped into her mind and almost made her run for the cover of her bed. But she knew she had to just check. She had to make sure it wasn't coming before she could go back to sleep. So she gripped the door handle. The creak it made as it opened, made her jump. Her heart skipped a beat.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the dark figure beside her feet on the doorstep. It took her a moment to catch her breath when she realized what it was. _Evan._ He was curled up on her doorstep, in the rain, fast asleep.

She contemplated the boy, almost a man, lying on her doorstep. Why was he here? Why was he in Eldon? She'd never noticed before, but now that she actually thought about it, he looked nothing like the other boys that lived here. He was too tall, his hands were too soft, his teeth were too white, his hair was too clean. He looked too refined to be a peasant.

A fraction of the fear that she'd been carrying around with her seemed to leave. She considered why this was as she watched Evan sleep. There was something odd about him. Something familiar, as well. The words he had spoken came back to her now aware mind. She could remember every word he had spoken, although she had no idea what they meant. It was curious that she should remember words that were so random. Phillip had forced her to endure lesson upon lesson of Etiquette, History and Science and she could not remember any of those things.

Pounding rain interrupted her thoughts. She looked pityingly at Evan, who looked very uncomfortable lying there with the rough boards of her porch as his pillow. She took the blanket from around her shoulders and covered him with it. It wouldn't keep him completely dry, but at least it would help. Her fingers brushed against his pale, blond hair. As she walked back inside and softly closed her door, she realized she'd forgotten to look at the sky. She also realized that she didn't care. All the fear that she'd been carrying around for two days was gone. She walked back to her bed and discovered that she was suddenly very tired.

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Celia opened her eyes and instantly knew that she was dreaming.

Nothing in Eldon looked like this. In fact, this place was the very opposite of Eldon.

She was standing in the center of a dense, green forest. Flowers of every shape and size surrounded her, like a rainbow joined at both ends.

It was the loveliest thing she'd ever seen.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in every color of every petal, afraid that if she moved too quickly, she'd disturb the vision before her.

A slow smile spread across her face. and for the first time in a long time, she felt emotions that had become foreign to her. She was light, happy, giddy, and excited. She felt like she was a small child again, without a care in the world. It was as if the horrors she had experienced over the past five years had never happened. Dreary, rainy Eldon seemed miles away.

The flowers before her seemed to call to her. She walked slowly forward to examine each one. She wanted to sear them into her memory so she would never forget them.

She remembered a few from drawings in books that Phillip had given her: purple lilacs, blue hydrangea, white daisies. Each and every one seemed to have its own distinct personality. They all seemed to greet her as she passed them. Each bush she went to was more glorious than the last. She longed to know the names of all the beautiful blossoms. Flowers never lasted very long in Eldon, and the ones that did were sickly and never this vibrant.

She looked past the flowers to see the circle of trees that surrounded them. They were just as lovely, their trunks standing proud and tall, their leaves an unimaginable shade of jade green. Sunlight filtered down through them and dotted the grass beneath, which was the exact same shade of green. She imagined the trees to be the strong knights, the keepers of the forest that protected all the little flowers in their charge. She laughed at the silly thought.

"Now I'm beginning to think like a child." she said to no one in particular and laughed to herself.

One single breath of warm wind blew over her shoulder and touched her face. She turned to the direction from which it had come and gasped. There, before her, were the loveliest flowers she had ever seen. They were the purest white, their petals swept up from their centers and curled over at the ends in soft waves. _Roses_. She wasn't sure how she knew their name. She was sure she had never seen them before.

Unable to resist their beauty, she walked forward to take a closer look, her hand outstretched. She was only a couple of inches away, when the scene before her suddenly changed. The flowers remained the same, their beauty shining like diamonds in their frames of jade green leaves. The change came in the sunlight that shone down through the trees. Once disbersed throughout the forest, it was now moving slowly. All the points of light gathered together to join at one point. All shining on the bush that lay in front of her.

She kneeled down in front of it. Her bare feet became tangled in her night gown as she leaned forward. She reached out to touch it. Before she could reach the silky petals of one of the roses, her dream vanished.

She opened her eyes to find herself staring at the straw that made up the underside of her roof. The rain was still falling steadily on the other side. The dim light shining through the windows told her that it was morning.

She breathed a contented sigh. The burden of guilt had vanished with her lovely dream, just as her fear had left her last evening. She suddenly realized that she was very warm. The rough blanket that she had laid over Evan the night before was now covering her. She sat up quickly, hoping to be able to catch him. Maybe he was still close by. She stood up to walk to the door and noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

She looked at her bed and stopped breathing.

There, beside her old worn pillow, was one perfect, pristine white rose.

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Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate them!


	4. A proposal

First of all, I am so sorry for all of the inbox spam I've just given you!! I'm having issues. :)

Thank you so much for all the reviews! You have no idea how much you're helping me to keep writing this story! You're all awesome!

Thanks, again, to InChrist-Billios for being my super rock star beta! HUGS back to you!

This chapter kicked my butt. I don't know why. I hope it flows better through your head than it did mine. :p (side note: I think I know why I was having issues now, and I vow to do better with the next one.) :)

(Did I mention I love you guys?) *big cheesy grin*

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After a few moments of stunned silence, Celia's senses finally returned. She rushed to the door jerking it open and raced outside. She ran straight into him. Evan caught her and held her as she attempted to regain her balance.

Their eyes met, and she realized she had never noticed his eyes before, but now that he was so close, she couldn't look away. His face was only a few inches from her own, looking down at her with an expression that she couldn't decipher. His eyes were the loveliest shade of blue she had ever seen; like the sky during the Sunny Season. She was having a very difficult time looking away.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, staring. She tried to remind herself of the urgency of the moment. She needed answers, but she was too caught up in Evan's sky blue eyes to concentrate enough to ask the questions.

From a distance, she heard the loud gasp that finally broke her from her apparent spell. She and Evan both turned their heads in the direction it had come, to see Sven, walking less than five feet away. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Celia knew that through his eyes he was witnessing a lover's embrace - and Celia, at that moment, remembered that she was wearing only her nightgown.

It took less than half a second for the treacherous tears to fall. Too mortified to even move, she just stood there, staring at the hem of her faded nightgown. Sven gawked as he walked past them, and she could not move to look, but she was sure that he was still staring as he passed, probably taking in every detail to relate to every single person in Eldon later.

This was going to be a very bad day, Celia was certain.

"I'm sorry, Celie." It was spoken so softly that she barely heard his apology above the pounding in her ears. "Is there anything I can do? I could go speak to him, explain...things" he looked sincere.

She tried to answer, but couldn't find her voice. Instead, she only shook her head 'no'.

After a few moments of silence, she told him more than she had planned.

"It's only...I have nothing left, Evan. I have no parents. No real friends, other than Phillip who isn't even allowed to be my friend. He's been far too busy to even speak to me. Now my reputation is ruined along with everything else. It seems that all the things around me are being destroyed. Everything I touch is turning to dust. and it's my fault, isn't it?" She took his hands and begged, "Please, please Evan. Please tell me why this is happening."

The silence that answered her pleas was excruciating. He never looked away from her pleading eyes, but his eyes gave her nothing. She wanted to yell and scream and shake him until he gave her some sort of explanation for all the chaos that had become her life. And he only stared back at her.

While they stood there, the sky lightened as the sun rose higher in the rain riddled sky. The clouds were blocking most of its light and neither one noticed when the sky brightened to a less dull shade of grey. Birds began chirping their morning songs in the trees above them.

And still he stood, saying nothing. She wondered how long she could stand here before she finally lost what was left of her mind. Her fear of being seen by anyone else won out over her patience.

"Evan!"

He jerked, as if he had just been wakened, blinked several times and ran his hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry, Celie, I just fell asleep. What did you say?" She was certain her jaw had dropped to her feet. Sleeping, indeed! He was deliberately stalling, and now that the sun was up in the sky, he knew that everyone would be leaving their homes to begin the day's work.

She was sure that her gaze was murderous, and she didn't care. She turned on her heel, walked away, and slammed the door behind her. She was certain she heard his laughter on the other side of the thick wood. She was also certain that she was not going to give up easily.

The lovely rose still lay where she had left it. It looked so out of place on her old, ugly mattress. She reached out and gingerly picked it up, afraid that she would crush the lovely thing, and placed it in the cracked teapot that stood reverently on the mantle. It had not been used since her mother had been living and it was the one thing of her parents that had survived that storm. She poured water from the clay pitcher that stood by her bed into the pot and put the delicate flower inside. It was an ill fitting home for such a beautiful thing, but it was also the most fitting. Her mother had been the loveliest woman she had ever known.

In the distance, a rooster crowed, and she only had moments before she had to be in Faye's presence, ready to receive orders. She dressed quickly and took one last look at the magnificent flower as she rushed out her door. Faye was the very last thing on her mind, however. Even the matter of Sven and the ordeal she knew she would have to go through, were not in the forefront of her thoughts. She couldn't shake the image of sky blue eyes from her mind.

As she had suspected, Faye was waiting at the door, ready to pounce. "Where 'av ya' been, you worthless girl?"

"Forgive me, please Miss Faye." What else could she say? I was busy staring at Evan's sky blue eyes while trying to get answers as to why that storm last week was calling my name, and I was also tending to a rose that appeared out of my dream. Her life had become quite absurd.

"Well, I will - this once! Don't ya' make a habit out of it, ya' hear me, girl?" Celia noticed the harsh edge missing from her tone and she glanced up at Faye to see why. She caught the look of pity on Faye's face just before she turned away. She recognized that look and was abruptly conscious of the day's date. It was the yearly anniversary of that very first storm. Everyone knew it.

She had come to despise that look of pity that came over everyone's faces on this day. She never thought she would miss the hateful indifference that she was usually given.

The Queen had decreed that it be remembered every year in memory of the lives that were lost. There were only two lives lost that day. Phillip made no secret of his displeasure of the "holiday." To him, it was a slap in Celia's face: a reminder that needn't be brought up each and every year.

This was definitely going to be a dreadful day. She sighed as Faye gave her weak orders to go to Sven's._ It can not get worse_. She repeated those words to herself through the rest of Faye's detailed instructions - the same instructions she gave every single day. She was convinced that Celia was a very simple-minded girl. Celia, of course, could not refute the fact that she often did things unintentionally to give Faye that opinion.

She forced what she hoped was a complaisant look on her face as she took the heavy basket from the older woman's large, rough hands.

Rough hands.

Her thoughts flew to images of soft hands and sky blue eyes.

She determined, as she walked out the kitchen door, that she would find Evan at the first available opportunity and demand some answers. Her resolve however, weakened as soon as she felt his hand on her arm.

"Good morning, Celie. I forgot to say that this morning, with the way you came running at me." Why had she done that again? She was having a very difficult time forming a coherent thought, but she knew that she should be very angry with him right now. It was odd that she was not.

She instinctively jerked her arm away and her anger returned tenfold. It was followed by fear, which was followed by suspicion.

"Who are you, Evan?" She stepped back two spaces just in case he decided to touch her again. He smirked in response.

"You know who I am, Celia."

"Do I? Do I know anything? Why are you here? What is happening? Why was that storm calling my name? Are more coming?" Her voice rose with each question, and she could tell by Evan's agitated expression that he was not pleased.

"Come with me." He grabbed her arm, and this time, the anger stayed where it belonged. She was grateful for that. She wanted to be very, very angry right now. She had had enough of sadness and tears, although the tears threatened all the same. She could feel her face burning as Evan led her swiftly around the side of the castle and through a small gate which led to the gardens. No one was allowed in this gate. The Queen had forbidden it, and everyone obeyed - until now.

Celia, however, was not concerned with the broken rule, or the garden with its moldy stone walls, overgrown with weeds. Her entire line of sight was focused only on the person standing in front of her.

He wore the same angry expression that she felt.

"What is wrong with you, Celie! You think you can just blurt out whatever you want in front of everyone?" Her resolve faltered. She hadn't expected to be yelled at. Not by Evan. Perhaps Faye or anyone else for that matter, but not Evan.

She couldn't explain why, but this just seemed wrong. The person she had never known to do anything but smile, before a few days ago, was nothing like the person standing in front of  
her now. Though, she realized hardly knew Evan at all. Perhaps something about that storm had changed him.

She decided that her best course of action would be to mimic his own from earlier. It took every ounce of strength not to cave and burst into tears. She never could abide being yelled at, but this time she would not yield.

And so she stood, looking up into sky blue eyes, and focused on staying strong, while he proceeded to scold her. She focused on those eyes and tried very hard to let his words fall on deaf ears. She still found herself blinking often to keep the tears at bay.

After only a minute, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.

"I apologize. That was very wrong. I thought...that if I treated you the same way that everyone else around here does, you would stop asking questions. I'm sorry."

_Not everyone treats me that way, she thought indignantly_, but she was still unable to speak. She knew as soon as she opened her mouth, the floodgates would open as well, and she would cry all over him again. His bluntness surprised her after having spent so long avoiding her questions. She felt a small amount of relief and a large amount of dread.

"You're just too sweet, Celie." He said that as if it were a faulty characteristic.

"Tell me." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Something about the change in Evan's tone of voice finally enabled her to speak.

He seemed to deliberate for a moment and then a slow smile spread on his face. That smirk made her wary, and she wondered what side he was going to approach her from this time. He was stalling, and she could see that, but she felt powerless to do anything about it. She was inept. Weak. She had never been able to make a single person do a single thing that she wanted them to do. This would be just one more example.

Except this time, it really mattered. She had never been more frustrated with herself than she was at this moment.

"Alright. I will make a deal with you. You want answers from me. I in turn, want answers from you." He looked very pleased with what he was about to say as he was now showing even more of his perfect white teeth. Celia couldn't help but wonder what he could possibly want to ask of her. "I will answer one question of yours for every two questions that you answer of mine."

Celia was sure that her head was about to explode. "WHAT? Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just tell me?"

The stupid boy had the audacity to laugh. "Because this is a lot more fun."

Her head was now pounding. This day was getting increasingly worse, and it wasn't even noon. She was contemplating whether the world had turned upside down while she'd slept as Evan turned and walked away, the beautiful stupid smile still on his face.

* * *

Isn't Evan a stinker? He's getting on my nerves, too. :D Please review! Critiques are more than welcome! Thank you!!

And for some encouragment. This verse was given to me yesterday and I wanted to share it with you.

2 Chronicles 20:17

"17 You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you.' "


	5. Loss

Thank you to everyone who's still hanging in there with me through all the confusion and awkward writing. :) Your reviews really make my day, and I really appreciate the ideas and critiques I've been given. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story. On to the next chapter!

* * *

Nothing made sense. She knew that she could spend months running every fact that she had through her head, and it still would never add up.

And the one person who had all the answers was insistent on playing games.

It was infuriating.

She'd followed him out of the garden of mold and weeds and stood in front of him, waiting. She was trying very hard not to stare into those sky blue eyes that made her feel so uncertain.

There was something about him; it wasn't his beautiful eyes or smile. There was something that was hidden underneath the exterior, something that she had never noticed before today. She had no words for what she now saw in him, so instead, she focused on her feelings and their recent conversation.

She had been certain of her anger before. She knew without a doubt that she had in fact, been very very angry - and as soon as he touched her arm, that emotion was gone.

Her head filled with questions, but she could not speak them. She knew she was losing her mind. The fragile thread she had had on reality was slowly unraveling. It was just too much. She was absolutely certain that Evan had something to do with her erratic mood changes- that he was somehow causing them - but that made no sense! It was impossible. Yet, the evidence was forcing itself upon her.

Instinctively, she knew if she pressed too hard, he would never give her any answers, so she decided to play his game. She would answer any questions he had. She just had to find out why there was so much chaos in her once normal life. There was no turning back now, even if a large part of her didn't want to know.

She wanted to run away, find somewhere else to live or live underground, do anything to not know the truth that she was sure would be frightening, but she had no choice now. That option was lost to her the moment he knocked her down behind the stables and the wind screamed her name. It was lost when she awoke to find a rose from her dream lying beside her pillow.

Her once normal world would never be normal again.

"Not now," he whispered and touched her hand. The fear that had been steadily welling up in her chest vanished.

His cold demeanor told her without words that he was finished speaking. The heavy basket on her arm reminded her of her previously appointed task. Suddenly, it didn't seem as important, but she wanted to hold on to what little normalcy she had left. She turned and walked away, leaving a very somber Evan behind her.

She turned back to the bakery and forced herself to walk forward. No longer feeling the fear, she now felt empty—numb. As the daunting task of facing Sven loomed ahead, the light mist that was constantly falling began to pick up. She hardly noticed it. Her head was too full of unanswered questions.

The bell tinkled as she walked in the warm bakery. It was the only warm place in the village, it seemed. Her feet felt like lead as she walked toward the familiar low counter. She was not ready to face the loathsome task that lay ahead. It was sad that a place filled with the smell of bread and pies should be so unwelcoming, especially today. The sooner she was done with this errand, the better.

She was surprised to see Emma, one of the Queen's servants, standing at the counter, a small basket of hot rolls in her hand.

Sven was leaning on the low counter in front of the pretty girl, his hands working animatedly. It was the only way he knew how to speak. The mention of her own name made Celia stop cold. Before everything that had happened with the storm, this would have been her worst nightmare.

Emma turned to see her and blushed. Sven only looked bothered that his story had been interrupted. He hadn't even the decency to pretend to be embarrassed. Had he always been this rude? Celia honestly couldn't remember.

She had been coming here every morning for years. Guilt for all the times she had even half listened to Sven's latest gossip hit her hard. Now, it was _her_ reputation that was being questioned. Instead of giving in to the usual tears, she chose to focus on something else, instead. Goodness knows, she had enough to occupy her mind long enough to get out of this horrid place.

Emma snatched Celia's attention from her scattered thoughts when she suddenly snapped at Sven.

"Sven, it isn't right you spreading gossip around about Celia. Everyone knows she is not like that, and I know for a fact that that's not the way it was, so just stop talking about it, right now!"

Sven flinched. Tension was quickly filling the small room and Celia wished beyond anything else that she could just disappear into the floorboards. It was difficult to pretend nothing was happening when your name was being yelled across the room.

What Sven said next made her wish that she could use one of those floorboards on him.

"I know wha' happened, Missy. Don't you go around bein' all pious and tellin' me what I did or did not see!"

Did he not _see _that the person he was speaking about was standing two feet in front of him?

"Sven, I saw Evan last night sleeping on Celia's porch, in the rain no less! Do you think that if there was something going on, she would have let him sleep on the porch? I saw that with my own two eyes. And don't _you_ try to tell _me_ any different!"

Celia was certain Sven's shocked expression matched her own. From what she knew of Emma, she had a temperament very similar to her own. She had never heard Emma raise her voice to anyone, much less try to put them in their place. She knew that she would be more appreciative of Emma speaking up for her if she weren't so embarrassed. She found herself wishing for the numbness to return.

Unsure what to do or where to look, she decided to focus her attention on her shoes. Her shoes were a safe thing to focus on. No one ever cried about their shoes. Mysterious boys, frightening storms, being spoken about as if you weren't there, perhaps - but never shoes. Her newly acquired courage was vanishing quickly.

The tinkle from the door forced her attention from the floor. She hadn't seen Emma walk by her, and now the young girl stood patiently, holding open the door.

"Are you ready to leave, Celia? We will buy nothing from this bakery today." Celia wanted to correct her. If she did not buy something from this baker, she would get an earful when she returned to the kitchens, but Emma grabbed her arm and nearly dragged her out of the door. She began ranting before the bell in the door stopped its tinkling, announcing their exit.

"What on earth is wrong with that man? Did his mother teach him any manners at all? Celia. I wouldn't worry about anything he says. Everyone knows he's just a sad, lonely man that has nothing better to do than to stick his nose in everyone else's business!"

Celia decided that if she and Emma had more time to speak, and she wasn't forever under Faye's thumb, _and_ if a treacherous storm wasn't trying to get her, they could be very good friends.

Something Emma had said earlier came back to the forefront of her thoughts. Had she said that she'd seen Evan at her door? Emma was one of the Queen's servants, which meant that she hardly ever left the palace.

It was, in fact, a joke among the ladies-in-waiting, that they were so pale because the Queen never let them get outside in the sunshine. It was rare to see one of them out during the day, much less in the middle of the night. One more mysterious occurrence, and Celia felt her head would explode. It threatened to now, as she listened to Emma prattle on about Sven.

And suddenly, before she had a chance to catch up with the change in topics, Emma said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I ran into His Highness on my way out the door. He wanted me to find you and bring you back to the castle."

_Phillip._

It had been so long since she'd seen him, her heart hurt. How she longed to see her safe, constant, Phillip! Just the thought of his name was like a life raft to her drowning heart. She had not seen him this entire chaotic week, and she knew that the Queen certainly had a hand in that. It was rare when anyone refused the Queen's constant demands, and Phillip usually ended up being on the receiving end.

She had never understood why he never fought her confining authority over him. She decided to never ask him. She already knew what his response would be. "As the Crown Prince of Eldon, it is my duty to obey the Queen."

Always duty. If there were awards given for dutiful Princes, he would certainly win them all. The only thing that he had not been obedient in was in becoming a wedded husband. Whomever he finally chose would be very blessed. The thought of Phillip finally married and happy made Celia smile.

Several men stared as they walked past the blacksmith's shop, and Celia knew their attention was not for her. Emma was a beauty. She was thin and tall with large brown eyes and hair that curled like corkscrews. Every male in the kingdom had tried to get her attention at one point in time. Celia had heard more than one stable hand speaking of Emma's beauty while she sat behind the stables, scrubbing pots.

Emma was still prattling away, completely unaware of the attention. Soon they were walking through the kitchen doors. Celia felt a moment of dread, before Emma, without even missing a beat, handed Faye the basket of rolls she had been carrying and whisked Celia right out of the kitchen doors and into the dining room, which was located in the main hall. She had not even given Faye a chance to speak. _Why can't I do that_?

Celia suddenly realized she couldn't remember seeing Emma even paying for the rolls that she had handed Faye.

The kitchen doors had been well hidden behind the stone staircase that led into the hall. Phillip's great great great grandfather, who built the castle, believed in keeping his staff out of sight. They were not his equals; therefore, they had no business being seen in his main hall. Phillip told her that, during his reign, the maids were forced to only clean at night when he was asleep, and the servants who set out food before meals were required to set it on the tables and then leave before he came down to eat.

If he could have had any idea of the friendship that was forged between his own heir and a servant, he would be rolling in his grave now.

She walked into the main hall to see Phillip speaking to many of the men of Eldon who had volunteered to clean up the mess from the storm and rebuild the stables. The damage had been minimal this time.

Prince Phillip, the Crown Prince of Eldon, was wearing clothes that looked like they had come from a peasant's closet. His shirt was filthy, and his pants had holes in the knees. It looked as though he had spent the entire morning doing heavy labor. His dark blond hair was in disarray all over his head and his fingers were covered in dirt. He looked nothing like the regal King that he would one day become.

Celia thought he looked very handsome.

The men were dismissed to go about their normal duties while Celia waited anxiously. She felt as if she hadn't seen her friend in a month rather than a week.

The men, their faces just as dirty as Phillip's, began to walk out of the hall—through the front door, no less. His great great great grandfather was definitely rolling in his grave.

His gray eyes lit up the moment he spotted her. She was dangerously close to running up to him and throwing her arms around him, but propriety called for her to stay where she was, her feet firmly rooted to the cobblestones that lined the hall. Perhaps she had remembered some Etiquette, after all.

Phillip, however, threw out the lessons that he had taught her himself and threw his arms around her, picking her up in the process.

"Celia! I missed you. I'm so so sorry, honey. I have not been here for you. How are you? Are you alright?" He looked into her eyes as he asked the last question, and she knew she would never get away with lying to him.

Instead of waiting for her answer, he nodded toward Emma. "Thank you, Emma. That will be all for now."

"Yes, Your Highness," she curtsied and hurried up the stairs just as another lady-in-waiting called to her from the top of the stairs.

"Her Majesty is demanding you, Emma! Where have you been? Have you been out of the palace the entire day?"

Celia was too busy trying to avoid Phillips' piercing stare to pay attention to anything else that was said. She knew that look.

Perhaps she could redirect his focus. She had noticed him yawning twice while speaking to the workers, and his eyes showed his obvious lack of rest.

"Phillip, you look exhausted. Have you slept at all this week?"

His reaction surprised her. He actually blushed. In all their years as friends, she had never seen his face so red. She really wasn't sure why anything out of the ordinary surprised her, anymore. Of course his reaction wasn't what she had expected. Nothing, of late, happened the way she expected it to.

"Celia, you are the one with dark circles under your eyes. Are _you_ alright? Are you having trouble sleeping again? If you'd like I can call for the Physician...."

"No. I'm fine. Please don't trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble. You know that."

She considered coming up with a lie. Surely the truth would make him send for the Physician right away.

"Phillip. I..."

"Is Evan bothering, you, Celia?"

It looked as though she would not have to make a feeble attempt at lying, after all. It wasn't exactly the topic she wanted to discuss with Phillip, but anything was better than the scolding she thought she was going to receive. Still, the reasoning behind his question bothered her.

"Why do you ask?" Had he heard those awful rumors, already? She wasn't sure how she would feel if her dearest friend thought ill of her.

"I did...hear something, which of course, I didn't believe for a moment."

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Of course he would not believe rumors. He knew better, but just the fact that he'd even heard them made her feel ashamed. _It's ridiculous. You've done nothing wrong. _For some reason, however, her thoughts would not register with her face.

"I've heard rumor that he's been following you around all week—that he's never more than a few feet away. And he's been sleeping on your porch? Is this true?" He paused for a moment to gauge her reaction. "Have you not noticed?"

She shook her head, no. It was only a half lie, but a lie all the same. She had known that he was sleeping on her porch, but she was not aware of him following her. Why would he do that? Why would he follow her and then avoid her? Evan was making less sense as time went on.

Her dear friend interrupted her troubled thoughts. "Would you like me to speak to him for you? I know how tenderhearted you can be. I don't mind telling him to find another pretty maid elsewhere." He laughed at that last remark. Celia was not laughing with him.

"Phillip, please. You're embarrassing me. It's fine. Thank you for the offer, but he isn't bothering me." _At least not in that way._ "If he does, you'll be the first person I go to."

"Celia, are you telling me that you like having an odd boy following you around all day? That doesn't sound like you."

She could see that he looked concerned, and that made it all the more embarrassing. It was time for another subject change.

"Has Her Majesty sent for any more hopefuls, now that the rebuilding is almost finished?"

Phillip immediately corrected his posture and changed from overprotective friend to Royal Crown Prince in an instant. Celia was very much relieved.

"Her Majesty is, at this present moment, up in her rooms writing letters to new dignitaries who have not yet sent their daughters here. I have assured her that it is only a waste of her time, but she refuses to listen."

She had a nagging feeling that there was something he was not telling her. They had been friends long enough for her to know that.

"And?" She awaited his answer quite impatiently. He only looked at her.

Finally, he said,"Could you please change the subject again, Celia? You're much better at that than I am." He ended his sentence with a small laugh, but he didn't look like he was in the mood for laughter. "Please don't ask me any more, Celia. You know I have never kept anything from you, but now is not the time for this particular conversation."

She was skeptical and more than a little curious, but she obeyed.

"Very well. What would you like to discuss, then? Perhaps our next scheme for my sneaking out of the kitchens? I was thinking; since running up and down stairs isn't very efficient, we could use carrier pigeons, instead."

She couldn't help but laugh at her own joke, and Phillip joined her. It was as if, for a brief, happy moment,the last week hadn't even occurred.

"Actually, we never finished with your last lesson on proper speaking and since you're doing so much better, I thought we would work on that more. Speaking properly is really the only thing you've learned during our lessons over the years, isn't it?" There was a mischievous glint in his dark gray eyes.

"Very funny! I have to leave, actually. I think I hear Faye bellowing for me below."

"Are you telling me that you would rather go back to the kitchens than spend time with me working on your lessons?" The mock hurt was displayed in his tone and in his exaggerated expression. She couldn't help but giggle. It was nice to feel normal again. Unfortunately, that feeling was short lived.

The tension was felt before Her Majesty even walked into the room.

Queen Camille of Eldon, great great granddaughter of the king who hated all servants, walked down the stairs and into the hall. Her long, flowing, black train followed behind her, as did her long black hair, which had not grayed, despite her age. The tension that was felt previously grew stronger as she came into the room. It was as if she carried her contempt for others everywhere she went. The Queen wore her malice as most women would a fine piece of jewelry, and she flashed it at everyone she came across.

She was followed by several ladies-in-waiting, including Emma, who looked as though she had recently been crying.

Most of the servants tried to stay as far from the Queen as possible. It was not uncommon for the serving staff to create a wide berth around her when they served meals. It would be comical if it was not so very sad.

Queen Camille carried many of the same beliefs as her great great grandfather before her, and Celia was certain the queen hated that those views were lost on her only son. She had overheard once, during a game of hide and seek (for she would never eavesdrop on purpose) Her Majesty berating Phillip, and she could remember hearing the word "disappointment". She had then proceeded to blame it on his "ridiculous sentimental father".

Celia never told Phillip of what she had heard that day, and he never brought it up. She knew, though, that he had loved his father very much and missed him terribly. It was never spoken, but shown in the young Prince's every action.

The good king had also been very kind to his staff: her father, in particular. Everyone mourned when Phillip's father died. Celia wasn't sure the same would be done for the Queen when her time came. The thought made Celia sad. She couldn't imagine what could be so important about being bitter, when the consequence of that bitterness meant loneliness in the end.

Ever the optimist, Celia hoped that one day the Queen would realize her wrongs and change her hateful ways. Today however, was not that day. Celia was certain of that the moment she saw the Queen's scrutinizing gaze close in on her.

Her Majesty chose to speak to Phillip instead of directly to Celia. That was usually the way. Celia was not a human being, after all. She was only a servant and did not need to be spoken to directly. Queen Camille's voice was always soft, but it sliced through each and every person she addressed.

"Phillip. Would you come here, please?"

He walked toward his mother with a look of defiance already set in his features.

Once he had reached her side, she continued in a low voice, trying to sound as if she did not wish to be overheard. Celia knew better. Each and every word that was spoken was meant for everyone to hear. She derived joy from making others miserable.

"Did we forget how a Crown Prince should dress, dear? I see that you have been spending such a great amount of time with your peasant friends, that you have decided to become on of them."

She spoke to him as though she were reprimanding a petulant child. Celia noticed Phillip's eye twitch, which meant that he was already angry. He never showed his anger outwardly, which worried Celia, for he was angry at his mother quite often.

"I have suffered this _friendship_ in silence for your father's sake, but it appears that this girl is having far too much influence in your life."

The queen's eyes were still glued to Celia's flushed face. Something about those particular words filled her with dread. Celia's eyes darted desperately to her life line, to Phillip's face. His eye twitched again. Celia held her breath, for she knew the next words spoken would surely break her heart.

"I am forbidding this girl from ever coming into this palace again. There will be no more visits, no more _lessons_. You will have no contact with this servant again. Do I make myself clear?"

Nothing was said for a long moment as the curious servants looked on. Queen Camille continued to glare at Celia. Celia continued to look to Phillip for some semblance of hope. Phillip continued to glare at his mother, The Queen, who had just ordered him to sever ties with the only friend he had ever known.

Celia knew that this day would come, but why did it have to come on _this_ day? _This_ week? Why could it have not come last week?

Phillip stood there, completely silent and still for several seconds. Celia wasn't even sure if he was breathing. He suddenly looked as though he had inherited something from his mother, after all, because he glared at her with the same malice that she was now using on Celia. His next words, however, did not match his eyes. If the Queen had taught him anything, it was self-control. He had used it often enough in her presence. He looked as though he was struggling greatly with that now.

"Mother, she works in the kitchens. She must..."

"_Not_ any longer. Now, she works in the stables, or in the fields. I don't really care where she works, but she will no longer step foot inside this palace again. I have tolerated this as long as I can stand. From now on you will not speak to her. Do you understand that, Phillip? You are the Crown Prince of Eldon! It is time you acted as such!"

Queen Camille's gaze turned finally and blessedly back to Phillip. Celia was certain she could almost hear his teeth grinding. He said nothing. He did nothing.

The Queen slowly turned and walked up the stairs, her task finished. There was a look of triumph on her face as she turned back slightly to add, "Guard! See that this girl is escorted from my home immediately. If you see her step one foot within an inch of my door, you are to escort her to the dungeon."

Several gasps filled the room. Celia could no longer see to know from where they came.

The guard quickly obeyed and walked her through the door. "I'm sorry, Celia," he murmured as he left her, two feet from the front hall.

She hadn't even been given the chance to say goodbye.

Two seconds later, she collapsed in tears on the muddy road. It seemed that life would take everything from her now.

She couldn't remember the strong arms that picked her up and carried her to her home, or the smooth gentle hands that stroked her hair as she cried. She only vaguely wondered why he wouldn't take the pain away.

She was so tired of crying.

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He watched the light from the fire flicker on her face and dance over her auburn hair, making the lighter red strands in her hair flash as if they were flames. She had cried for over two hours before finally giving in to exhaustion. It was painful to watch her distress and know that he could help her if he chose to do so. He could take it all away, but if he did, he knew that she would never heal.

The first time he had intervened and altered her feelings, he had had little choice. She had been so consumed by her fear that she could no longer function. Every moment of every day had been saturated in that one emotion.

He had expected that this would be difficult. She was a female after all - a creature of emotion. He had not, however, expected the onslaught of that emotion to hit him with so much force. From the very first moment he had arrived in Eldon, he had been very aware of her.

Everything that she felt washed through him like an ocean wave. The force of it had nearly knocked him to the ground. He hadn't truly recovered yet.

The voices of the elders began to ring in his head.

"He's far too young for this mission!"

"He has not had the experience that a task of this delicate nature will require."

"We do not even know the full power of this evil and you want to send in a mere boy? It is a death sentence - to him and to all of us!"

They were right, of course. He had been skeptical before, when he was told about his part in all of this. Now that he knew Celia and saw how frail she actually was, he doubted even more. It was an honor to be chosen, but too great load for one person to bear.

He had not expected her to be so frail and weak. What had her parents been thinking? How could they leave her so defenseless?

Celia whimpered softly in her sleep. He stepped closer to her sleeping form and watched her. Her lip began to quiver, and the heartache that she felt, even in her sleep was becoming his own. This time he intervened. He knelt by her bed and whispered the words that he knew would calm her, while he stroked her hair. What she needed most now was rest.

He could feel the presence of the evil that was coming. Its anger was beginning to sear into his vision. It was only a matter of time before it took it over completely. Only a matter of time before it came back to take her.

He thought back on the day that he had first encountered this evil - the day he'd protected her. He'd been so confident in his ability to keep her safe before he came here. He had never been more afraid than he was at that moment.

Every single ounce of fear that she had felt had washed through him as if he were feeling it himself. He had never felt fear in that way before. It was crippling to feel so much at once. He was still angry with himself over what happened that day. He could have lost her.

It took far too long for him to say the words that he knew by heart, had known all his life. A second longer, and Celia would have been lost.

Celia whimpered again. His lack of concentration was only making her pain worse. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing all the tension that had built up in his chest.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the tension finally leave her body as she fell into deeper sleep. A thought came to him.

He'd given her a dream once before, hoping it would somehow help her to regain the memories that had been taken from her. This time, he decided to give her a pleasant dream. It was of his happiest childhood memory. The only one he could recall. He smiled as he thought of it. It was indulgent and selfish, but he wanted her to remember this as well. Surely, there was no harm in that.

He ignored the black flame that had begun to burn into his peripheral vision. Let it come. She was safe now.

He would do everything in his power to keep her that way. He would die if it became necessary to do so, to keep her from harm.

She was becoming far more important to him than he would have liked to admit.

* * *

I was going to end it at the end of Celia's very sad day, but I just couldn't leave you hanging again. :) I promise, more will be revealed in the next chapter, and I hope you're not disappointed with the answers! Review pretty please!

Thanks again to my wonderful and patient beta, InChrist-Billios!


	6. Visions of the Past

A peaceful calm pervaded her senses as she slowly opened her eyes. The first thing that she noticed was the dark; the second was the cold. Frigid air blew over her and brushed tendrils of her hair across her face. It took a few moments for Celia to realize that she was dreaming.

She was no longer in her bed, but now lay on the freezing, hard ground. The clouds that were covering the sky shifted slightly, and the moon's pale light shone down around her. A thick fog was steadily rising from the frozen earth. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to stay warm, and she slowly stood and surveyed the landscape that surrounded her. She appeared to be standing in a meadow, surrounded by ancient trees. The image looked familiar, and Celia struggled to recall where she had seen it before.

Her thoughts drifted back to trees of jade green, surrounding a circle of flowers. These were the same trees, but the flowers were nowhere in sight.

A voice was carried on the cool breeze as it blew through her hair. She turned in the direction from which it had come to see two children perched on a rock that jutted out of the frost laden, earth. A boy and girl sat in the cold night, huddled together to stay warm.

Celia walked closer, cautiously. She was exceedingly aware of every tiny sound that her footfalls made, as she slowly stepped forward across the icy grass. The children sitting before her didn't seem to hear the soft crunching sound that she made with each step. Her feet and hands quickly became numb from the cold.

When she felt that she had reached a safe distance from them, she stopped. She was careful not to interrupt the vision, but she committed every insignificant detail to memory. If she had learned anything during this last week, it was that nothing that happened was coincidence. This dream had meaning, though she did not know yet what that meaning was.

.From where she stood, she could see that they were shivering almost violently.

She turned from the children with some difficulty to, once again, survey her surroundings. A part of her wanted to run to them and throw her arms around them to try to make them warm, but she could not risk waking from this dream before she had seen everything in it.

Her eyes devoured every living thing that surrounded her. Each leaf on each tree seemed to call out an ancient mystery, and she longed to know the history of each one. .

Without warning, the fog that lay like a blanket on the ground suddenly lifted and formed thick walls on either side of her, blocking her view of the trees. It seemed to direct her line of vision back to the two small children.

She obeyed the odd command and turned back toward them, taking a few more cautious steps, but neither child seemed to notice her presence. The girl moved even closer to the small boy and laid her head on his shoulder. In return, he placed a thin arm around her and pulled her closer.

The little girl looked in Celia's direction, but seemed to look past her. Celia was immediately aware of who the girl was: the long auburn hair –hair that Celia knew would turn even more red in the sunlight – the dark eyes, the pale skin... She was watching an image of herself. Celia's breath caught in her throat. Her step faltered, and she tripped and fell to her knees. Hot tears, their temperature intensified by the frigid air, began to blur her vision. She wiped them away hastily, not wanting to miss a single moment of this extraordinary sight. This was no dream; it was fact. She knew this scene. She had been here before—felt the bitterly cold wind.

This was not a vision, but a memory.

This was nothing short of magic, she was certain, but whose? She was unable to look away from the tiny image of herself. She took one more soft step closer, straining her ears to hear what they were saying.

The children's voices were muffled by the unfaltering wind, but she was afraid to step any closer— afraid that they would vanish, just as the last dream had vanished.

She planted her bare feet firmly on the frozen ground and strained to hear them. Laughter, like the sound of bells tinkling, floated in her direction. Was she laughing? Her child self? She had never noticed her own laughter before. It was fascinating, being able to watch her past self. She looked content, despite the bitter cold. Not just content: she looked happy.

She tore her gaze away from the little girl to gaze at the boy. Pale blond hair, in need of a trim, hung in his face and fanned across his eyes each time the wind blew. His clothes were threadbare and much too large for his small frame. The cloak that he was using to keep himself and the young Celia warm looked as though it threatened to fall apart at the seams at the next gust of wind.

None of that seemed to matter to him, however. His entire focus was on the girl - herself. She wondered why she would be here with him in the middle of the night, and in the cold. Her parents never left her side. They would never have let her wander in the dark. Celia wondered if perhaps she was lost.

Before she could further speculate, a large gust of freezing cold wind hit her back, forcefully and propelled her even closer to the scene that lay before her. For a brief moment, she was terrified that this would be the end of the dream: that she would wake up with even more unanswered questions.

To her surprise, the vision still lay before her, only now, she stood only a few feet away. It was as if the magic wanted her to get closer, so that she could hear what was being said. Again her younger self looked up and did not see her. Then she spoke, and Celia became unable to move, afraid that even breathing too deeply would destroy the vision.

As she watched, it seemed as if some long ago history, one that she was not supposed to be privy to, played out before her. Her younger self was the first one to speak.

"My Papa and the man are talking, but I don't know why. Do you know why?"

"No, I don't," the frail boy replied, softly.

"Oh...well...do you think they'll come back for us soon? It's so cold out here. I think I would like to go home to my bed and sleep for ages. Are you tired?"

"No," he said as he pulled the worn cloak closer around her, leaving very little for himself.

Celia smiled, as she watched them interact. It seemed her younger self would have to make a grand effort to get anything other than one word answers from the strange boy. He looked so familiar... but it couldn't be whom she suspected. The eyes were all wrong. Evan's eyes were a pale sky blue. This little boy had green eyes. Celia gasped as she recognized their odd color. They were jade green.

"Do you know how to build a fire? I suppose you're not allowed to play with fire, are you?"

The boy grinned at her, showing a smile so lovely, it lit up his entire face.

"Yes, I know how to build a fire. I can't right now, though."

"Oh." She continued to shiver and Celia once again suppressed the urge to put her arms around them both.

It seemed her younger self was finished, as lengthy as her pause became.

The grown up Celia became more impatient with each passing second.

"Do you know what my favorite color is?" the girl asked suddenly.

Celia grinned. It was just like her to bring up some random topic of conversation to speak about. It was what made her very good at switching topics with Phillip when he asked her questions that she did not want to answer.

The thought of Phillip brought back another vague memory, but she was too enthralled with the scene before her to fully entertain it.

The little boy seemed strangely eager to hear her answer. "What is your favorite color?"

"Blue. I think the way the sky looks on a sunny day is the prettiest shade of blue there ever was, don't you?" She sighed. "I wish it was sunny now. I'm so cold."

The boy sighed in response. "Celie, you know it can't be sunny all the time. I was scolded the last time I made it sunny for you, remember?"

She grinned. "Yes, I do, but don't you think they would let you do it now, since we're so cold? I'll bet they won't even know. They've been gone for so long, they've probably fallen asleep."

The boy said nothing, but his resolve seemed to be faltering. After a few moments he finally answered her. "No, Celie. I can try to make you warm, though."

"Ok," she said grudgingly.

The little boy put his other arm around her shoulders to join the first, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. The heat drifted through the cold air, causing steam to rise from the spot where they sat. It drifted out towards Celia where she stood a few feet away. She would have been able to feel it - if she could feel anything at all. Her body was not the only part of her that was now frozen.

Her mind was also frozen; immobile. Any conscious thought had left her the moment he said, "Celie." Only one person in her entire life had ever called her that.

She stared, dumbfounded, at the the young boy, and another conversation surged through her bewildered mind.

"Who are you, Evan?"

"You know who I am, Celia."

Her thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when her younger self spoke again.

"I don't understand why you didn't do that to begin with, since you could."

"Because you need to remember this one day," he softly replied.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just do."

Nothing else was said.

As she stared in horror at the scene before her, the boy looked up - and not through her, as her younger self had, but directly at her.

His eyes were no longer jade green, but a lovely shade of sky blue.

* * *

Thank you once again to InChrist-Billios for doing a fantastic job as my beta! *hands another great big plate of chocolate chip cookies*

(on a side note - if you should notice any punctuation off, that was my fault. I changed a few lines and was too excited to run them by her before posting. *looks apologetically at Billi*)

I also apologize to those of you who were seeking more answers in this chapter. :( I hope you'll forgive me. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity of writing this dream. Well, ok, in all honesty, Evan convinced me to do it. ;)

Please review! All critiques and suggestions are more than welcome!

Love, Raenad


	7. Revelation

Thanks again to InChristBillios for her wonderful, super human, proofreading skills!

Thank you also, to: munchkinim, Juniper Avenue, Lady EVA, Queen of the Fairytales, spaceout93, Ellsbeta, royalkiwi, Frogster, Mustang Tawni, Mazkeraide, Darth Chocolate, GeminiAngel236, and lovelyredlizard for your lovely reviews!!

On to the next chapter! I'm on pins and needles waiting to hear what you think of it! I hope I don't lose any reviewers with this one. :)

Once again, I apologize for any awkward writing. I'm learning and having a lot of fun in the process! :)

* * *

And here is the nightmare that should have been after the last one. Hopefully, this will be the last time that I'll have to add scenes this way. Thank you so much for being patient with me while I learn! :)

* * *

_As she stared in horror at the scene before her, the boy looked up - and not through her, as her younger self had, but directly at her._

_His eyes were no longer jade green, but a lovely shade of sky blue._

The dream changed abruptly. The grey mist swirled around her and turned from grey to black, slowly covering everything until it was all that Celia could see.

The calm that she had felt before was now completely gone, vanished just as the vision before her had vanished.

Her young self was gone, along with the young Evan, the ancient, protective trees, and the hovering moon. The only thing that remained was the bitter cold.

She turned in all directions, searching in vain for any traces of the dream – for any trace of Evan – but all that could be seen was the inky black that covered everything.

Taking deep, even breaths, Celia tried with all her might not to panic. It was a dream, after all. The reminder calmed her frantic nerves somewhat, though she could still feel her heart hammering in her chest.

The air around her smelled stale and foul.

She could feel the rough stones and the scattering of straw beneath her bare feet.

The stone floor was only slightly warmer than the frozen ground she had been standing on moments before.

The shock that she had felt when she first saw Evan's eyes paled in comparison to the panic that was now slowly taking over all of her senses. A soft rustling began in what Celia perceived to be a far corner of the room, but she could only see blackness. It covered everything.

_It is nothing._ She told herself –willed herself to believe. _Only a __rat__._ Rats were not her favorite things in the world, but she was not afraid of them. She had been forced to take care of them before, while working in the kitchens. She usually caught them and released them into the woods.

The rustling became much louder and was followed by a loud scraping; the sound of something heavy being dragged across the stone.

_Not a rat._

Her breathing picked up. It seemed to echo from the stone walls and echo in her own ears. Whatever was in the room with her could surely hear it and know that she was here.

The rustling and scraping stopped for a moment, only a few short feet away. In the darkness, Celia's mind conjured up the most horrible images that it was capable of, as the sudden silence screamed at her.

Her fight with her panic was quickly lost as the scraping began again; the thing in the darkness seemed to come closer to her.

Celia stood in silence for several moments. Her breathing was erratic and her heart was pounding. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides in an attempt to stop their violent shaking.

_Wake up!_ "Wake up! Wake up wake up wake _up!_"

Celia couldn't be certain if she had thought the words or said them aloud as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and attempted to force herself awake.

The rustling scraping stopped once more, now only a few inches from where she stood.

A quiet sob escaped her lips along with the gust of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding in her now burning lungs.

She felt hot tears sliding quickly down her cheeks as she quietly sobbed.

Then something cold and clammy touched the fist that was clenched tightly by her side.

* * *

Celia awoke from one nightmare only to face another.

The howling of an angry wind sounded in her ears, and the immediate fear that followed was paralyzing. It felt as though ice, instead of blood, was running through her veins. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to move, and afraid to breathe. And that was all that she could do: breathe in and out, the sound drowned out quickly by the approaching storm.

Evan was with her. She sensed his presence before she felt his warm hand holding hers. It was the only part of her body that was warm. The rest of her was still frozen, either from fear or remnants from the dream. To Celia, they were one in the same.

He said her name softly in her ear, concern laced his tone. She was not surprised when the fear slowly ebbed. Nothing about Evan would surprise her any longer. He took her other hand as well and whispered the words that he had said before, behind the barn during the first storm. The language now sounded more familiar, and more comforting.

Celia breathed deeply, contentment taking over.

Evan also breathed a sigh of relief against her ear. She wondered if it was because he was no longer worried about the storm, or if he was no longer worried about her fragile state of mind.

The boy that he used to be had cared for her. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her—well, the younger her. He was there, in the dream, watching over her. Surely he must be doing the same thing now. Was that the reason that he came to Eldon - to keep her safe?

And those questions brought forth more. If the dream _was_ real, and she was almost positive that it was, that meant that her parents had lied to her. It meant that her entire life was based on lies. Why? Why would they come here to Eldon, of all places, when they lived in the loveliest place Celia had ever seen? And why would they separate her from someone who seemed to care so much for her, who could keep her safe, to live in a place where she was not wanted? Were they thinking of her at all, or was there another reason for this farce?

Celia felt oddly at peace. It was surprising, considering the circumstances that she was now in. She sifted through the myriad of emotions that had taken over her senses: confusion at this fantastic turn of events, sadness at her parent's decision to lie to her, curiosity as to how she had forgotten someone as magical as Evan, gladness that after everything that had been put before her and then taken away, one person still stood beside her. But amidst all those different emotions there was no fear.

The storm was deafening now. It's howling winds sounded more human at each passing moment - no longer one voice as before, but a thousand angry, howling voices. They called her name louder than before, making her ears ring. Evan let go of one of her hands and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She was not afraid in that moment, but a new emotion was surfacing, one that she had no name for. One that she had never felt before. She leaned in closer to Evan and laid her head on his shoulder and she realized in that moment, that it didn't matter why he had come here - only that he was here. If the dream was truth, and he had known her when they were children, that meant that he must have been searching for her. While everyone else in her life had left her, he had sought her out. And despite the chaos and madness that went on around them, she was at peace.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

She awoke to the dim lights of a rain covered sky. Her eyelids were sore and swollen, and her body felt just as abused. Thoughts of yesterday's events flooded her sleep hazed mind. She sat up quickly, causing a wave of vertigo to hit her in the process. Groaning, she fell back to the bed, which was surprisingly soft. She noticed her surroundings for the first time. At the same moment a deep voice said her name.

"Celia? Honey, are you alright?" she looked at him, incredulous. Phillip sat on a low stool by her beside, which wasn't her bedside at all. She was in a room that she had never seen before; but it was obviously in the palace. Was this another dream?

"Celia?"

"I...how did I get here?" Her confusion quickly turned to panic, and she sat up again, practically shouting her questions. "Where's Evan? Is he alright? What happened?"

"Shh, Celia. It's alright. Evan is fine." He said the name as if it were a vile word. "I told him to leave, but he's very insistent to stay near you. He's waiting right outside the door."

She breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly felt very wretched. Her dear friend was sitting before her, and after everything that had transpired yesterday, her first questions were of someone else.

"I'm sorry. I..."

"No, Celia, don't," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare apologize to me for anything. I should be the one apologizing to you. I've betrayed you, Celia, and I'm very sorry. I..." he seemed unable to speak for a moment and she quietly waited for him to continue.

When he did, his words were far from what she expected. "My mother is dead, Celia."

It took a very long moment for her addled mind to process what she had just heard.

"What? What happened? Phillip, I'm so sorry." And she was sorry. She had hoped that one day something would break through the Queen's carefully constructed facade, that she would show her only son the love that he so very much deserved. But now that hope was forever lost. Celia would never understand how Her Majesty could look on her own child, so beautiful, loving and caring, and only react with venomous hatred. She understood now why Phillip was now so distraught. He had hoped for the same thing.

She reached out to him, and he, in turn, practically fell into her arms. Celia felt her heart being ripped to shreds within her chest as she held her grieving friend. She had never seen him this way before. Even when his father died when they were children, he hid his grief from her.

He looked up at her and put his hands on either side of her face. "I'm so sorry, Celia. There are things that I have been keeping from you— things that you deserve to know. You have been nothing but goodness and I have taken all the kindness that you've given me over the years and thrown it to the wayside. And for that I am truly, truly sorry. I'm sorry that I did not stand up to her when she ordered you to leave, that I did not speak for you...when I had the chance."

He dried her tears with his fingers and leaned away from her, resuming his seat on the low stool, then attempted to compose himself again.

Celia acted before thinking and threw her arms around his neck. "Phillip, please don't blame yourself for what happened yesterday. We've been through far too much together to let anything come between us. And I'm sure you don't believe me, but I do forgive you. I forgave you the moment that it happened. You are not to blame for any of this."

He shook his head. Of course he would argue with her. He was determined to be in the wrong and be unworthy of her forgiveness. He was a very stubborn man. Celia sighed. She would just have to put forth every effort to show him that he was forgiven until he truly believed it.

"Phillip, will you tell me what happened?" Even as she asked the question, she was afraid of what the answer might be. She moved away from him to sit back on the bed.

"She...it was an accident, Celia. A new medicine arrived for her yesterday. She must have drunk too much of it. It's the only explanation the physician could give."

"I'm so very sorry, Phillip."

He smiled slightly and brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. Celia hadn't noticed that it was hanging loose. She blushed.

"There is still one important thing that I must speak to you about, Celia." He took a deep breath.

The uncertainty of what that important thing might be made Celia suddenly very nervous. He had never kept anything from her. Even if he had tried before, he would have failed, but this time she had no idea of what he was planning to say. His grey eyes were still swimming with tears when they finally met hers again, and when he spoke, he did so very softly

"Celia..."

The sharp knock at the door made her jump. She hadn't noticed until that moment that she had stopped breathing.

Phillip sighed and turned toward the door and then back to her.

"It seems I will have to speak with you another time." She could only nod in response.

Evan did not wait to be granted permission before he walked into the room. Celia looked to Phillip. He kissed her on the cheek and left the room quickly, before she could see his reaction to the intrusion, which probably meant that he did not want her to see it.

She did not miss the look on Evan's face, however. He showed open disdain for his Prince, who was now his King. He closed the door with a little more force than was needed as soon as Phillip walked through the door.

"What are you thinking, Evan? Phillip is very tolerant, but it's only a matter of time before he is forced to reprimand you..."

"I don't believe you are defending him, Celie!" Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the window. "He does not deserve to stand in your shadow, much less kiss you."

Celia decided to not press the issue. Arguing would not get her the answers she was now desperate, but also afraid to hear.

"That was not a dream, was it?"

Her sudden change of topic caught Evan off guard. He seemed uncomfortable, not just with her question, but also with his surroundings. It was evident in the way he crossed his arms across his chest and stood away from everything in the room, as if he didn't want to touch anything here. His next words confirmed her suspicions.

"Not here. Be patient."

She huffed and threw her head against the pillow. Evan laughed, and she threw the pillow at him in response. He effectively dodged it, throwing his entire body out of its way.

"Why don't you want to touch anything here? Is there something wrong with this room?"

Her question obviously startled him. He hadn't expected her to be so observant.

"Not here, Celia."

_And so the wait continues_, she thought. It was becoming increasingly frustrating. Evan smirked at her. She stuck out her tongue and couldn't help smiling at his responding laughter. It was much like that first day, except that now he was no longer a stranger. Celia wasn't exactly sure what Evan was to her, but she knew that he was more than just an acquaintance. She was aware of him more than she had ever been before. Nothing that he did while standing near her in the small room went unnoticed. She wished that she could know what he was thinking -- what it was about this room that made him obviously wary -- why he insisted on staying with her.

And the dream would not let her be. It haunted her, the fact that she could not remember Evan. What else had she forgotten? She sifted through memories, searching for any indication of missing pieces of her life. She recalled her mother's voice, her father's strong hands, playing childhood games with Phillip: nothing seemed out of place. There were pieces that were unfocused and incomplete, but she had always assumed that was the way of memories. They dulled as you grew older. She could not recall a time that she felt like she was missing something.

Phillip sat by her bedside, keeping a constant vigil throughout the morning. When he was not asking her if she needed a drink of water or food or another blanket, he was scowling at Evan.

Evan refused to leave the room, despite the continuous orders to do so. It concerned Celia. The only servant in the room to bear witness to Evan's defiant behavior was Emma, but Celia knew that it was only a matter of time before Phillip lost his patience. Even now, she could see that his grey eyes twitched frequently.

After a very long morning of annoyances and arguing, she finally convinced Phillip that she was fine and that she wanted to go home. The weary young king reluctantly agreed, but only if she promised to return to have dinner with him. The suggestion made her want to laugh. Just yesterday she had been banished from even walking up the steps - now she was to dine with the King in his own palace. Celia had the feeling that this was just one rule of many that would be broken now that Phillip was king.

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Celia stood several feet from what once was her home. It had never been much to look at. It had been in shambles, really. The roof leaked, the walls leaked, but it had been her home. And now it was only a pile of rubble. Broken and cracked boards were strewn all over the ground. The fireplace was the one thing that still stood, and even it was missing bricks here and there. Phillip's over-protective behavior suddenly made a lot more sense. How had she survived this?

The answer to that question reached over to her and took her hand in his. "Would you like to walk?"

She nodded, unable to speak, the tears once again falling over her cheeks and soaking the front of the borrowed dress. Emma had turned out to be a very good friend after all.

He led her toward the forest that surrounded the small village. Her heart was pounding very hard; she wondered if he could hear it.

They walked for a while in silence. Evan seemed to know where he was going, and she knew that she was safe wherever he was. Clinging to that truth, she continued to follow him through the dense forest. It took only a few minutes to get to the rows of trees that Evan was looking for, but the scenery looked like it belonged in another place entirely. Each row of healthy green trees seemed to bow to the other respectfully, creating tunnels between them that blocked out a lot of the skies' hazy light. The light that shone down was filtered through the leaves and dappled in spots on the grass below, much like the light that filtered through the trees in Celia's dream. It was lovely.

Evan led her through the tunnel of trees and sat down, leaning against one tree and gesturing for her to do the same. She took a deep breath, her heart now pounding against her rib cage. She could hear it in her ears. Her face was hot. She wondered if it was too late to run away. Evan smiled reassuringly and took her hand to help her sit. The ground was surprisingly dry.

"Alright. What do you want to know?"

"What? I thought...you said that I had to answer two of your questions before y.."

"No." He placed his hands over hers. "No more games. You deserve to know the truth."

"Then why did you even suggest it in the first place?" She was now the one stalling, and she knew it, but she wasn't sure if she was still ready to know.

He seemed to search for the words before he said them. "I suggested it...because I needed to know how much of your past you remembered."

"Oh." It was the only thing she could think of to say. He was being perfectly honest, no more games, and she was now the one unable to speak.

"Celia." She looked up to see sky blue eyes smiling down at her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

His words calmed her, and it reminded her of something else she had been longing to ask.

"You can...alter my emotions...can't you?" her words tumbled out upon themselves, and she couldn't make herself speak any louder than a whisper.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I don't know," he replied. "For as long as I can remember, I have been able to see other's emotions. It comes in flashes - in colors, and in some people I can't see anything at all. I'm not sure if it's because they need to be strong emotions for me to see them; it isn't something that I've ever really tested. But with you, it's very different. I'm not sure why, but when we were children, I could not see your emotions at all: not until I came here, to Eldon. I knew that you were here as soon as I walked past the city walls, but I not only saw them, I felt them as if they were my own. It took a few days before I could adjust to that and finally separate your feelings from mine. And yes, I can change them. "

"So you _were_ looking for me?"

He clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Why?"

He took a deep breath and paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. "I was sent to look for you, Celie, because no one else could find you. They had been searching for you for years, with no results: not even a trail."

"Why did my parents bring me here?"

He squeezed her hand.

"I can't answer that, Celie," he said.

"Because you don't know or because you don't want to answer?" Speaking of her mother and father out loud made her heart ache.

"I don't want to. Not yet."

"I thought that you were going to tell me everything."

"Not that."

"Was it so terrible?" she asked.

He seemed to deliberate before finally answering, "I suppose they did what they thought had to be done to keep their only child safe."

She knew he would say nothing more on the subject.

"You made me warm in my dream. Why? How did you do that?"

He smiled, "Because you needed to be warm."

"That only answers one of my questions."

"No, actually, it's the answer to both. I made you warm because you needed to be warm. I was able to make you warm because you needed to be warm."

"I don't understand."

"I am what you need me to be, Celia. There are no words in this language for what I am to you. The closest that I could come up with would be 'protector' but even that doesn't quite cover it."

"Are there many like you - many...Protectors?"

"No. Not very many. Not anymore."

"Does someone assign Protectors? How does that work?"

His jaw clenched again. "No one assigned me as your protector." He smiled "Unless you want to claim that achievement for yourself. When I was a small child, I was catching fish by a stream. You had walked away from your parents and fell in; I jumped in and dragged you out."

"Really?" Her smile at his answer quickly turned to a frown.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he put his arm around her.

"It's just...it's very upsetting that there are parts of my own history that I can't even remember."

He wiped the tears away that she hadn't realized had fallen.

"You will."

"How did I lose those memories?"

"You did not lose them, Celie. They were taken from you."

"But how? And you gave me one back. Can't you show me more?"

He shook his head, no. "I was not with you for every even that happened in your life before you came here. I was only there for a few, which I will show you, later, if you would like."

She sat there a moment, unable to speak, unsure of what to say to these bizarre answers. This place, this setting, with Evan looking down at her with eyes that she now knew she had changed -- it was all very surreal.

"Is it a good thing to be a protector, even though there aren't very many left?" _Am I ruining your life now that you have to follow me around, trying to keep me safe?_ is what she really wanted to ask.

He laughed. "It's a great honor to be chosen, and stop feeling guilty about it."

"Even if the one who does the choosing is a child?"

Her cheeks were getting warmer by the minute.

"Yes", he laughed, "Even then. It normally doesn't happen that way, though. Normally, a child who has exceptional...gifts is chosen. The elders then train them, usually for most of their lives, and when they're finally deemed ready, they are matched with someone to protect."

"Did you go to the Elders to learn more, to develop your gifts?"

"No."

She contemplated that for a moment, and Evan waited patiently for her next question.

"What are you, Evan?" she asked.

He leaned toward her, placing a hand on each burning cheek, and tilted her face up to meet his.

"I am the same thing that you are, Celia," he said. "Our people are now simply a part of myth and legend to everyone who lives here. There is a reason that they shun you, Celia, and it isn't because of your misplaced devotion in their prince, or your shyness. They see something in you that they can't understand, and so they avoid it. It makes them nervous, but they can't explain why. It's in your voice, and in your eyes. There is a magic within you that has been hidden for far too long, but it's quietly growing each day. I can see it, and somewhere, in their subconscious minds, they can as well, and true to human form, they run from the unknown, from what they cannot understand."

He was silent for a long moment while she struggled to process these new revelations. His answers were beyond anything that she could have imagined. She had sensed that he could alter her emotions. She knew that he had kept her safe during both wind storms. Everything else was quickly becoming an overload of information. She took a shaky breath; another tear slowly trickled down her cheek. She had come this far. She would not back down now. She turned her eyes to his again.

"What am I?"

He smiled once again, in his reassuring way. _Everything I need him to be_, she thought. It was far too much for one person. He leaned forward and took both her hands in his own, his action causing butterflies to erupt in her stomach, and his eyes held hers as his next words were whispered softly.

"Celie - you are a fairy."


	8. Reflection and Duty

Wow, it's been a long time since my last update! I'm so sorry for that. To sort of make up for it, I've added the dream (nightmare) that should have been in the last chapter, but wasn't. (Thank you ladies, for calling me out on that - I love you for it - really! Thank you!) It's at the beginning of "Revelation" (the last chapter) if you want to read it. And a huge humongous Mama Heffalump sized "Thank You!" to inChrist-Billios, who has been ever kind and patient, even when my entire chapter needs to be highlighted because of errors. *makes face* Enough of my prattle, here's more from Evan. His voice was much louder than Celia's.

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A child's love is love in one of it's purest forms. It is offered freely, with no conditions, demands or boundaries. When a child loves, it love with it's whole heart. This was the love that Evan and Celia had once had for each other, but she didn't remember, and he tried to forget.

It was better this way.

He had reminded himself of this repeatedly, from the moment he arrived in Eldon and discovered that she had no memory of him. He found that he spent far too much time trying to convince himself that he didn't care. He cared more than he should.

From the moment he saw her, all of the old feelings of adoration and love threatened to return. But he shut them back as soon as he saw the first flash of white in his peripheral vision, fearfully aware that the emotion he was suddenly witnessing was his own.

Those were feelings that belonged to someone else. Any future with Celie had been lost long ago - and his own fate had been sealed the day he was born.

The day that he finally accepted that was the day that he finally began living again - what little living that he was allowed, at any rate. Letting the old feelings exist would only serve to destroy whatever life he had left.

It was better this way.

And he had been successful, in the beginning: hiding his own internal struggle behind jokes and laughter and attempting to show indifference instead of what he was struggling _not _to feel.

Until she began to experience those same emotions, for him.

Though she could not recall the child-like love that she had once felt for him, Evan watched a new spark of love daily growing stronger in her.

He felt it now, in her every glance and every touch. The strongest he had felt it, was during the last attack, while the storm raged around had successfully taken away her fear — fear so strong that it would have destroyed her already fragile state of mind — but he could not take away the soft stirrings of love that emanated from her, though they were so faint that she probably did not recognize them, herself, for what they were.

His attempt to sway those emotions along with the fear had failed. The blinding white light flashed before his eyes, and he could do nothing but brace himself against it and pray that he had buried his own memories deeply enough. The dream he had given her was more than she could handle, and he chided himself for even considering it.

The shock of her sudden and irrational fear at such a leaden dream alarmed him and made him fear for her safety - and question her parents decision once more.

He questioned the elder's choices, as well. Surely they didn't believe that someone as sweet and meek as Celia would be of any help to them. Her gifts may have been effective before, if they could have been cultivated and encouraged, but they were not. She was left in this place, weak and defenseless.

There was nothing more that he could give to her. He had done far too much damage already. He would not always be with her to protect her mind and body, and she would be used by the elders and then left to the devises of those that had already proven they were not worthy of her past love and devotion. He would never forget the look on her face the night that they pried her away from him. It was a memory that he had tried many times to shut out, to no avail. Something inside of him had died that day - but she did not remember any of it.

It was better this way.

He reminded himself of that fact, once again, when he held her hands in his and stared into her dark eyes as they sat facing each other beneath the canopy of trees. Tears had still flowed freely down her cheeks. Tears that he had always despised - tears that he feared would one day be his undoing.

He'd struggled to keep up with the rampant emotions that hit him full force. The shock of what he had just revealed to her finally began to wear off.

A kaleidoscope of colors danced before his eyes: colors that he'd become all too familiar with. Most of these colors could not be seen with human eyes, they had no names. The only two that would be recognizable to the human eye were white and black—love and hate: the two strongest of all emotions.

Some shades that flashed before him were darker than others; each one was significant to the strength of the emotions that others were feeling. It had only been a theory of his before, but now that he had felt Celie's emotions with every flash of color, his suspicions of his unusual gift were finally confirmed.

And every time a small sliver of white shone before his vision, he felt an urge to pull her closer and an equally strong need to run away - which is what he was now doing.

His worn soles made squeaking sounds in the wet grass as he ran. The rain was coming down in sheets now, but he paid no heed to it. Normally, he would be reveling in the rain and the wind. While others ran to seek shelter, he rushed out into it.

There was far too much to think on this day to enjoy the rain, however. The least of these concerns was the knowledge that each footfall took him further away from her and put her in more danger. Despite his better judgment, he'd left her in Phillip's care. _Phillip_ - the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. The young king was a mystery to Evan, and it made him distrust him. Evan had little respect for the man.

Phillip had been handed the world on a silver platter. He wore fine clothes and had never known hunger, while the girl that he claimed to care for went without many basic necessities. It was disgraceful. Evan had been inside the small hovel that Celia called her home. He'd noticed the worn and tattered clothes that she wore each and every day. Her dress was more stitching than material, and the fact that she never wore socks did not escape his notice. She probably had none. How had Phillip been near her every day and not noticed? Or had he noticed and never cared? His intentions with Celia were unclear, and it left Evan feeling unsettled. Phillip did not deserve her. She was a priceless gift, and Phillip was not worthy of receiving her.

The rain began pounding even harder as he searched once more in his peripheral vision, for any sign of black that would indicate danger. The blackness always came before the storms. If he was careful, he could get back to her before it did. Leaving her so physically unprotected and emotionally unstable made him anxious, but he continued on, even though everything in him told him to turn back.

He had put this off for far too long.

He finally stopped just inside the entrance to a small clearing that lay to the north of the small kingdom, at the previously appointed tree. The marking on the base of it was barely distinguishable to anyone who might be walking by, which was unlikely in this dense forest; but, they could take no chances. He rested his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath, unaware that he was already being watched.

"Well, it's about time!"

Evan was startled by the sudden voice, not having heard its owner approaching footsteps.

"I thought you had settled down and started a family with the girl, as long as my wait was!"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't ...get away."

"Don't hurt yourself, young one. Catch your breath first."

Evan cast him a glare in the direction of the voice. Its owner's face was well hidden amidst the leaves and bramble that hung thickly around them.

"And you should jolly well be sorry. I can't imagine why anyone would even want to live in this dreary place!"

"Everett, please...." he pleaded, still struggling to catch his breath. "I haven't much time. What have you learned? Will I be able to leave here with her?"

The short silence that followed was adding to Evan's already mounting frustrations. He had imagined everything to be so much simpler; he should have known better.

"No, Evan. I'm sorry. I see no opening in or around this kingdom. There is a great evil lurking here. I'm afraid it will take more than either of us have to take her back to Lorenne."

Evan felt the strain of this "simple quest" he had been sent on. It was anything but simple. He sighed and ran a hand through his dripping wet hair.

"It seems her father thought of everything!" said Everett.

"It seems he did!" Evan ran a hand through his dripping blond hair once more.

"What should I do? I can't let her stay here!"

No answer came from beyond the wall of foliage and trees that blocked Evan's view of his unlikely confidante. He waited for a few unnerving moments. He assumed that Everett, with his odd temperament, had grown bored with the conversation, or tired of the precipitation, and left. Evan turned back towards the castle, every muscle in his body demanding that he return quickly, though there were no new shades of black in his line of then decided to speak once again:

"Evan, I do not understand you. You've already proven that you can keep her safe! Why don't you just marry the girl and live out the rest of your lives in this dreary place. Have children, grow some...corn or whatever it is that people do! Live your life!"

Evan whirled toward the voice, his sudden anger temporarily overriding the worry of being so far from Celia.

"And let others die? I cannot do that, Everett!"

"They would do it to you! They_ have_ done it to you - or as good as!"

"No." There was no denying the determination in Evan's voice. In this, there was no debate. He was uncertain about so many things concerning this assignment, but his loyalty to his people was not one of them.

"Very well then! You are a fool, Evan! You can complete this task and go straight to your grave, but I will not stand by and watch while you do it!"

This time Evan did hear the rustling of the leaves as Everett made his departure. He could hear leaves and sticks breaking as his friend moved further into the dense forest, making a disgruntled retreat.

"Everett! Everett, come back! You know that I cannot do this without your help!"

Evan smiled slightly when he heard the sudden silence of Everett's hesitation. Without warning, Everett bounded through the trees and stopped directly in front of Evan, his face only a few inches away.

"That is very true young friend. You do need me. You need me to give you a swift kick in your backside!"

"Everett!" Evan laughed, shocked and amused by his friend's unexpected reply.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" demanded Everett "You know what they'll do with you as soon as you return!"

"Faiden has promised me that will not happ..."

"Faiden lies!"

"Lies or not, Everett, I cannot stay here—not when being here puts her in danger."

"And you think that taking her to Lorenne will keep her _safe_? You are far more stupid than I gave you credit for!"

"Thank you, Everett. Now, if you're finished passing out compliments, I must get back to Celie."

"Celie, eh? It's been a long time since I've heard you use that name. Interesting."

Evan chose to ignore the comment. He had learned to disregard any opinions that Everett had concerning Celia.

"And where is _Celie_ this evening?"

"She's dining with Prin - King Phillip," he quickly corrected himself. He was aware of the harsh tone in his voice as he said the man's name.

"I see... and you are being eaten away with jealousy right now, aren't you?"

"Everett - no. I really have no time for this now. I know you find it amusing, but I really have to get back."

Everett paused, his silent glare becoming increasingly irritating.

"You know, for someone who can see emotions, you're pretty blind to your own."

Evan emptied his lungs of air. This particular topic was always a matter of contention between himself and Everett.

Evan decided that a topic change was most likely the best course of action. They had had this conversation before, and neither party would concede.

"What do you suggest we do next?"

"Changing the subject, are we? Alright then. I suggest we continue in the same way we have been! We just have to wait and see! There are always ways of getting around these simple curses! I'll see what I can find about the local folklore. You just stay with your 'Celie' and pretend that you don't feel anything for her while I do the hard work."

Evan rolled his eyes and turned back toward the castle, taking off as quickly as was possible. The use of the word 'simple' made him laugh bitterly. His friend followed suit and kept up with him easily.

"Oh, Evan!" he called, as he jogged alongside Evan's full run, "Can you see what I'm feeling right now?"

Evan laughed and shook his head.

"No, Everett! I still cannot!"

His words were muffled by the rain and broken from the exertion of running, but he knew that Everett had still heard them.

"Didn't think so!" he called as he turned quickly and ran in the opposite direction, hiding himself again in the cover of the trees.

Evan's smirk was short lived as Everett's words sunk in to his already overburdened mind.

It seemed so simple, so easy, when he'd heard those words, "_just marry her..._" It was a dangerous seed to be planted, and it was done intentionally; of that, Evan had no doubts. Everett had lived a long life and experienced his own world of love and loss. He meant well—of that Evan was also certain—but this world was never easy or simple. There were too many boundaries between himself and Celie. There were too many obstacles to overcome and, most importantly, too many lives that hung in the balance.

When he returned to Lorenne, he would most likely be headed for his grave. And that's the way things had to be.

It was better this way.

* * *

I'm always so nervous when I post another chapter! Eek! I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things, so I apologize for any errors. Thank you, once again, for taking time to read my little story. :) I will try my best to get the next one out much sooner!


	9. Revelation from Celia

First of all, let me say how very very sorry I am that I am just now updating! I've been very busy learning so that I can become better at this. It's a process but I'll get there, eventually. Thank you to everyone who's still sticking with me! Thank you for all the critiques, praises, and suggestions! I love you all!

Special thanks to InChrist-Billios, for editing this chapter and to The Oblivious Seraph, who has been helping to guide me through this. You're both my heroes. Thank you so much!

One more note: this chapter contains Celia's reaction to Evan's revelation, only. It isn't terribly long and there isn't much action - that's coming soon, I promise. This chapter has been the bane of my existence. I've written it and rewritten it, and lost it on , and cried, then rewrote it again... I can honestly say that I'm thrilled to be getting this chapter behind me. I'm sure one day I'll have to revisit it again and make it better, but for now, I'm finished with it. Enjoy! *laughs*

* * *

She used to love fairy tales: stories of beautiful princesses and handsome knights who came to their rescue. They usually involved tall towers, or evil witches who cast evil spells on their lovely captors, and no matter what the peril the two lovers faced, the story would always end happily.

But Celia's life was not a fairy tale. There was no tower – just a plain, dull, drizzly town. It wasn't interesting or romantic- there was no beauty to be found in Eldon; the flowers had long ago died, and the trees that still stood were withered. Eldon's people were much the same; a withered, dying lot of humanity that went about day after day performing tasks that they cared nothing for and living each day filled with anger and hatred. At least, that's what she saw when she awoke every morning and was forced to live amongst them and endure their ridicule.

There was no evil ugly old witch, but a horrible, faceless, nameless storm that only wanted one thing: her death. She could feel it. Every memory of the horrible voices that screamed her name in unison reminded her of that fact; every memory of the words that Evan had whispered into her ear. He'd saved her twice from the horror of those screaming voices, and in each instance, she could hear _his_ voice, repeating those foreign words as if in prayer: words that she knew - and yet, didn't know.

And even if when she scrunched up her eyes in the mirror and turned her head to the side, she was still just as plain as she'd always been. Her nose was too big, her lips too small; her eyes weren't quite symmetrical, and her hair tended to frizz in the endless barrage of rain. The only beauty that she could see was the color of her hair; it reflected the shades of Autumn: browns, reds and occasionally oranges, when the uncommon ray of sun would shine on it. Even with that one characteristic, she was still very plain.

And yet, there he stood: with the most sincere expression she had ever seen on another face, telling her that her life was in fact, a fairy tale.

_Fairy._

At first, she took it as a joke: an awful, ill-timed joke. It wouldn't be very hard to believe; the very first impression she had had of Evan had been nothing but jokes.

_Fairy._

That was it, then. The boy had obviously lost his mind, and hers was quickly following. She looked away from his face and occupied herself with the wet blades of grass beneath her fingertips, desperately beating down the panic she could feel rising within her. Her face was hot and her eyes stung; the backs of them being pricked mercilessly by unshed tears.

_Fairy__._

It was the most ridiculous... preposterous...

Images of the past few weeks came to the forefront of her thoughts, and as much as she wished them to leave her be, she could not ignore them. She could not ignore the strange events that had led to this astonishing revelation: the rose that mysteriously appeared on her pillow from her dream, the bizarre way Evan seemed to be in tune with her emotions, the vivid nightmare that had haunted her long after she'd woken - the horrifying voice in the storm that continually called out her name.

She swallowed back the tears that were inevitable – she never could hold them back, even when she'd wanted to – and stared at those sincere blue eyes, eyes that she knew were the wrong color.

She had never been very clever. Even with all his prodding and persistence, Phillip had never been able to teach her very much. He'd given up years ago, after her very final refusal to read poems. It seemed his favorite poet's dismissal was the final straw. He'd sighed heavily, his mouth twitching in anger, and turned away from her with a calm demeanor that seemed to belie his true feelings. She thought it strange that he'd be angry about something as silly as poetry - who wanted to read verse upon verse of nonsense, anyway? None of it made sense; it was just a bunch of words strung together by a person who was, clearly, out of his mind. What did the sun and moon shining in someone's eyes have to do with life? Pots and pans and disgusting dishwater - those were what she knew of life. The sun and moon were things that were hardly ever seen, here. But she could speak each word that had come from Evan's lips, as easily as if she were reading it from a page. She knew those words. They made her _feel_ something. Not just words jumbled on a page, but more...

_Fairy__._

It was so far away from the reality that she knew. She had resigned herself to this life. This dull, lonely life with all its hardships. She was built for work. It was what Faye was constantly reminding her. "Celia, you can lug those around. You've the right build for hard labor." And then she'd cackle and continue standing at the stove and pretend that she was doing something important, other than just watching carrots boil in the great big cast iron pot above the fire.

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, as she watched Evan's expression constantly switch between sincerity and concern. What was he feeling from her now? Could he tell that she was in disbelief? In shock? Panicked? Did he know that instead of feeling relieved at finally knowing the reason that she had been hated, scorned, and ridiculed her whole life, she actually felt betrayed? With that knowledge of who she was and why they hated her so much also came a whole slew of new questions: if _they_ knew how she would be treated, why had they brought her here? Why would her mother and father put her in danger, put themselves in danger, to live in this horrible place with all its ugliness and despair. Why had they let her live her entire life surrounded by people who hated her, just to leave her here alone?

It wasn't fair to them, or their memory, but the feelings of betrayal came, nonetheless. Every day they'd had an opportunity to tell her the truth, yet they woke up each morning and lived their lives as if they belonged here – as if they were part of these people. Each night, they kissed her and told her they loved her, but never once mentioned what she was. She had to hear it from a boy, whom she had never even met prior to two weeks ago. A beautiful boy who gave her vivid dreams and spoke magical words and saved her life.

All the vivid images of her dreams played out behind her tear-filled eyes as she fought to regain control over here rampant emotions, and for one long moment, as she looked into Evans' eyes, she could no longer see sky blue – instead she saw the brilliant jade green eyes of the friend who had cared for her, taken care of her. And for the first time in a very long time, she didn't feel so alone.

He held her small calloused hands in his large, curiously soft ones, and she felt safe. She had no way of knowing whether these feelings were real, or manufactured by the young man who held her hands, but at that moment, she didn't care. Apart from his mild teasing, he had shown her in every action, word and deed that he cared. He cared whether she lived or died. He cared enough to shield her from the torrent of wind and rain, enough to put himself in danger for her own safety. Everything about him was telling her she could trust him.

She looked up to his eyes once more, and the slight flutter of her heart caused her breath to hitch in her throat and her sobs to stop momentarily. She hadn't even realized she was blubbering until then, and as she looked into his eyes, she wished once more that she could tell what _he_ was feeling. His expression seemed to be frozen.

And even in all her emotional turmoil – the doubt, fear, loss, betrayal, and hope – the evil nuisance of self-doubt crept in, making her wonder if he would soon be tired of her never-ending sobbing.

Her question seemed to be answered quickly, and she was lost in her own self-admonishment as he gently picked her up and and began walking away from the sodden grass and the arch of trees. It appeared he had had enough of her crying for one day, as he handed her off to Phillip. She barely heard the angry words that were exchanged between them. She barely knew it when she was laid on the large bed that stood in the center of the her cold, borrowed room.

She cried for so long, eventually Phillip and Emma also tired of her and left her alone.

As she cried out the last of her tears, she remembered the way that her Papa would always brush her tears away when she cried. She always cried. Whether she was happy sad, afraid, lonely, or nervous, the tears would always fall. And Mama and Papa would always be there to dry them, with their rough, calloused hands, before they swept her up in their strong arms and did their best to put the pieces back together. She was a mess - and they'd loved her, anyway. They'd made it a point to tell her every second of every day they were on this earth. They showed it in their final actions when they sacrificed themselves for her safety.

She stared at her own calloused hands and the tears streamed down her face anew as she remembered that day. And for the first time, she made peace with it. She missed them - would always miss them - but she was here, now. They had died so she could live, but she had been going around day after day as if she were dead; going through the motions of her daily life, spending every other moment with her face awash with tears, and living each moment with so much guilt. They wouldn't be happy knowing that she was living a defeated life.

But that realization brought a new truth: every day that she stayed here, she was putting everyone else who inhabited this dreary town at risk. It was after _her_. A shiver ran down her spine, and she quickly wiped her face with her hands and walked over to the lone window in the tiny room. The moon which had shone uncharacteristically bright earlier in the night was now covered. Only a small sliver of light illuminated the ground, making it barely visible. The darkness was somehow comforting.

Exhausted and spent, she fell asleep on the floor beside the window frame, with her head lying on her folded arms. Her last waking thought carried a determination that she hadn't felt in so long: this would be her last night in Eldon.

As she slept a new dream formed, hazy at first. In it, she was lying in her old straw mattress, a well-worn quilt laying over her small frame. She looked over at the large figure beside her and watched as he read from a book that looked to be very old. The pages were no longer white, but a dingy yellowish-brown. Small holes and tears covered the binding, and it smelled of dust. He coughed every now and then while he read it. She watched, bewildered, as his lips formed words, but no sounds. When he was finished, he closed the book - a light spray of dust hovered above them both - and looked down into her face amid coughs and asked,

"What did you think of the story, Celia?"

She looked up at him and squinted her eyes as she tried very hard to remember what he had said.

"What story, Papa?"

Her father smiled slightly, but the sight confused her; was he supposed to be frowning after he smiled? Had she done something wrong?

The giant of a man gently patted her shoulder, kissed her forehead and said, "Goodnight, Celie. Have sweet dreams." He turned to blow out the candle.

And left her in the dark.


End file.
